


Smile

by dirkygoodness



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: It's not really that shippy but it's kinda hinty, It's really old I wrote it a long time ago, Italy worries that Germanys face will freeze, M/M, You could take it as friendship too though, fluffy fluff, how do tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirkygoodness/pseuds/dirkygoodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stoic Germany undergoes a trial as Italy tries to make him smile more, in fear of his face freezing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god this is a really old fanfiction I found and decided to post it on here. It was previously on wattpad.   
>  Sorry for inconveniences, misspellings, and any other mistakes I tried to fix as much as I could.

      Italy never understood how Germany could be so stiff and grouchy. He had a frown that could kill and eyes like ice, but Italy knew he could, in fact, look and act soft.   
      Once Italy had skipped out on training, saying that he was very very tired, and of course he knew that Germany would be furious. So, to make up for it he dug around in his recipes and found one of Germany's favorite foods that Italy had procured for 'safe keeping.' When Germany had found him in the kitchen working over at least three pots and trying to finish it before he found him, Germany stopped. Then, much to Italy pleasure, Germany's face softened. His icy eyes melted into a calm sea and his normally upsetting frown grew into one of his rare, kind smiles. He had thanked Italy and told him he could train tomorrow.   
    Now Italy sat on his couch contemplating two very important topics, one: why was pasta so good? And two: what would happen if Germany didn't smile more often? After about another hour of thinking, which gave Italy a painful headache, he had come up with the answer to both. The first answer he had come upon quite easily, pasta was just so good because it was and that was that. Sadly though the other answer had taken much longer to figure out. Italy had decided that if Germany did not smile more then his face would freeze in a constant state of frown, which made Italy shiver just thinking about a world where he was unable to see that smile which he was so fond of. Italy sucked in his breath. He couldn't let that happen. He had decided. He was going to make Germany smile if it killed him, although he very much hopped it wouldn't.   
  
     Italy pulled his hands tighter around the small brown bag as he walked to Germany's house. He had remembered a flower that his friend had much adored and had even smiled over. Italy had no idea what the flowers name was in English or Italian, but he was pretty sure it was called 'Kornblume' in German. He had bought at least thirteen packets of the seeds, recognizing the flower from its pretty blue picture. This would certainly make him smile, or so he hopped. Italy smiled as he set the bag down to survey the yard. It was horribly plain and as much as Italy could tell looked like it hadn't had any work done on it other than a mow every now and again. Italy cringed just thinking about it's plainness. Italy had always had nice pretty flowers in his yard, large trees and the grass was usually left uncut.   
     He walked over to the door and decided he would plant some here, and some beside a few bushes that he noticed around the yard. He hopped it would add a sort of color to the yard. Next, Italy spent at least two hours in painstakingly (or painstaking for him) yard work by clearing the grass from where he was planting, along with weeds. After he was done he huffed loudly, grinning at the fruits of his labor. Deciding that was good enough Italy left the seed bags under a bush, going over to Germany's door. He opened the big brass door going inside. Long ago Germany had started leaving the front door unlocked during the day for when Italy decided to come over with an unannounced visit, which was practically an every day occurrence now. Closing the door quietly, he began making his way to the kitchen. He was thirsty and hungry. Although he would wait on the food seeing as most things Germany made smelled funny and tasted even worse. He had a lot of practice in telling what foods of Germany's he disliked and which ones he liked, and that was a rare few.   
     He stopped in the doorway, though, upon seeing the same man he was thinking about. Germany stood over a pot, frilly apron on. He wore a white shirt and dark blue pants instead of his usual uniform that he liked to wear everyday. Italy noticed, with a small smile, that Germany was quietly humming some song. Normally he would have joined in, but Italy didn't recognize it nor did he wish to disrupt Germany's voice. Italy leaned on the door frame, smile growing as he listen to him hum. His deep voice rumbled rhythmically making Italy sleepy. Suddenly though, it stopped – to his irritation - when Germany let out a noise similar to a squeak and a gasp. Italy opened his eyes, which he hadn't known he had closed.   
     “Italy!” Germany shouted his face going red from the embarrassment of being startled. “Mein gott, don't do that.” Italy, although he fought it, ended up laughing. He always found it quite funny seeing Germany blush.   
     “Sorry Germany.” He said apologetically, getting up from his resiting place.   
     Germany sighed. “How long have you been here?” He asked slowly. Italy put a finger to his chin in thought.   
     “Uhm, about ten minutes I guess. Not that long.” Germany's face reddened further as he realized his ally had been listening to him. Although he had been heard by Italy before, on the rare occasion he got so drunk that he started to sing, now that he was completely sober the embarrassment was almost overpowering. Italy looked over at the food he was making, the smell wafted into his nose causing him to loose all trails of thought he previously had, turning now to food.   
     “I've never actually seen you cook before.” Italy said, making a mental note to make sure he celebrated it later, before continuing. “Is it good?” Germany ran a hand through his blond hair.   
      “Ja, I suppose it is rather good... but you don't like my food. Why do you want to know?” Italy blushed slightly before huddling up beside his friend.   
     “Future reference... and yeah, I know I don't really like your food but I'm really hungry and it smells really good, much better than most of your things. And I haven't eaten at all today.” Germany sighed again, this time through his nose.   
     “Fine, you can have some, but you can't complain about it. You know you don't like my food.” Italy nodded bouncing in excitement. He stopped, though, remembering the flowers.   
     “Oh! I have something I need to show you! It's out front, come see?” He asked still grinning. Germany stood there for a moment before nodding, taking off his apron.   
     “All right then, what is it?”

 

    “Italy, dear god, what have you done to my yard?” Germany asked as he stared, mouth agape as he saw the grassless patched of earth. Italy giggled.   
     “I planted flowers, silly.” Germany looked at him in horror, the thought of putting flowers in his 'manly' yard too much.   
     “Why?!” The blond nation demanded. Italy shrugged.   
    “Well you like them. The only time I've seen you with one, you actually smiled. So, I figured, if I can plant them all around your front yard then whenever you came home or went out you would smile. Because, Germany, I don't like it when you make that nasty frown- the one you're making right now, when you have such a nice smile. And you're face is gonna freeze in that frown if you don't smile more.” He finished with an intake of breath. Germany just stood there for a moment before smiling. He chuckled.   
     “Italy, my face wont freeze. But thank you for the kind gesture.” Italy giggled once more, happy that his mission to make Germany smile was successful. Now, if only he could get him to laugh more.

 


End file.
